Like A Song
by TJ Robinson
Summary: Ten short Professor Oak-centric fics written for that Music Shuffle Meme that's going around.


**A/N:** Did that song challenge thing for Professor Oak. Yeah, I did take more time than I was supposed on most of them, but cut me some slack, man... I was inspired, and I haven't written anything in over a year.

**Warnings: **Let's see... I think there's some slight language and drug use, but that's it.

**Disclaimer: **Standard disclaimers apply.

---

**Higher (Creed)**

There he was, on top of the world. He looked down at his creation, like God staring down at the Earth on that restful seventh day. He wasn't the one who needed the rest, however. On the bed beside him lay his lover in a drug-induced slumber, with her hand lying lazily over the edge of the crib where her son – _their _son – lay cooing softly and reaching his hands up towards the florescent lights that brightened the hospital room in the dark of the late night.

"He's just like his father," said Delia, startling Professor Oak out of his thoughts. She opened her bleary brown eyes and turned to him with a small, tired smile. "Always reaching higher than the rest...."

---

**Silver and Gold (U2)**

"Give the ball, Oak!" the grunt spat. He whipped around to face the Professor, who seemed to not notice the peon's rage as he stared at the cold metal wall behind the man, apparently in a stupor.

"I'll say it one more time: show me the _fuckin'_ Pokéball, old man, or you're gonna regret it," growled the Rocket.

Professor Oak lifted his dark eyes and met his captor's gaze.

"I never said that you couldn't have the GS Ball," Oak replied. "I just want you to ask nicely for it."

Whipping out his gun, the grunt let out a horrendous yell and charged at his hostage. He placed his white gloved finger on the slim trigger of the device and pulled it with a quick flick, then stared in shock and horror as a large, cartoonish hand shot out from the end of it and proceeded to mercilessly tickle his prisoner.

"Oh, Christ..." muttered the henchmen as his captive roared with laughter.

---

**To Get Down (Timo Maas)**

"You don't have it in your any more, Samuel," Agatha said with a devious smirk. "All those young, cocky trainers that head through here thinking that they're going to be the best... they keep me in shape."

Samuel gave his former rival a genuine but determined smile as he reached into his lab coat pocket.

"Weren't you the one who taught me not to judge an opponent before the battle has begun, or have you already forgotten that lesson in your old age, Agatha?"

The old woman cackled and shot back, "You're one to talk! Shadow Ball, Gengar!"

Agatha threw one of her Pokéballs and watched as it opened in mid-air. Out of the white beam of light that shot from the device formed a squat, purple Pokémon with spikes trailing up its back. The Gengar shot a large, devious smile towards his opponent and placed its hands together in preparation for its first attack.

"Dragonite, Dragon Rage!" Professor Oak shouted as he took the Pokéball from his pocket and threw it towards the center of the stadium. The ball burst open, revealing a large, light orange dragon that immediately sent a barrage of fire from its mouth towards Gengar.

"Now, Gengar!" Agatha barked at the ghost. The Pokémon nodded and released the large black ball that had formed between its cupped hands. The two attacks collided in the middle of the dark, empty stadium and caused a large explosion that sent both Oak and Agatha flying towards the opposite walls of the arena.

"Just like old times, eh?" the Professor bellowed with a smile to the older woman before he hit the side of pitch with a loud thud.

---

**"Talk" (Coldplay)**

"Gary, what's wrong?" asked Professor Oak. His grandson was slumped over one of the metal tables in the main portion of the lab, eyes glazed over as he stared out of the large window at the other end of the room.

Gary looked up at the sound of his grandfather's voice and gave his elder a small smile. "Oh, hey, Gramps. I'm fine... just a little tired is all."

Oak eyed his grandson warily. "Are you sure, Gary? I don't ever remember you sleeping as much as you do nowadays... I can't imagine why you'd be tired."

The young man turned his eyes away from his grandfather's face and replied, "Really, it's nothing, Grandpa. Don't work yourself up over it."

"Gary."

Starting slightly at the severity of his grandfather's tone, Gary looked back up at the Professor to see him with his arms crossed and his eyes bearing down on him with a stern gaze. Realizing that he wasn't going to get out of this situation unless he spoke up, he sighed and began to speak. "I just don't feel like I'm cut out to be a researcher."

Oak quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Gary felt his eyes growing moist and rubbed them with the long sleeve of his shirt. "When I was trainer, I was on top of the world. There was never a moment when I wasn't confident in my abilities, even when I lost to someone a lot stronger than me. But now..."

The Professor nodded. "Go on."

Gary sighed again. He rested his chin on the cold metal lab table and continued with a small voice. "You're such an awesome researcher, Gramps. You're the one who inspired me to get into Pokémon science. But now that I'm actually doing... well, I don't think I'm good enough for it. You've accomplished so much in your time as a Pokémon researcher; how I am supposed to match up to that? All I've done so far is revive an Aerodactyl from some stupid amber, and most of that was Crystal's work, anyway."

Oak sighed. He walked over to the boy and sat down in the chair next to him, and placing a hand on his back, he began to speak very gently to his grandson, just like he had done during the times Gary had come to him as young child after he had had a nightmare.

"Gary, you don't always have to be the best," he said as he rubbed comforting circles around the boy's back. "You and I, we're not rivals... we're family."

He smiled slightly and lifted his grandson's chin off the table with his finger, then continued.

"As much as I want to see you succeed, I don't want to see you to do it at the cost of your well-being. If you don't want to be a Pokémon researcher, that's fine with me. I just want you to be happy with the path you've chosen, that's all. If you're happy, I'm happy."

Gary gave his grandfather a small smile through his tears and said softly, "Yeah, all right... thanks, Grandpa."

---

**"Welcome to the Jungle" (Guns N' Roses)**

As he walked down the gray city sidewalk, the Professor could hear the wail of sirens and a chorus of female voices moving quickly down the road next to him. One by one the motorcycles flew by him, the glare of their highbeams cutting the darkness that surrounded his periphery as they moved forward into the night. He stopped to watch as the bikes skidded to an abrupt halt a few feet in front of him and their passengers dismounted.

Professor Oak continued to look on as the officers ran down a dark alleyway and proceeded to pull the struggling delinquent from behind a dumpster that protruded out onto the sidewalk. He screamed and kicked and fought, but the collective force of the cops holding him down was too much for him, and he collapsed in a heap on the ground with four of the finest from the Viridian City police force surrounding his trembling, sobbing form.

"What's going on here?" asked the older man as he walked up to the ring of officers.

"We found him trying to use and capture Pokémon without a license," said one of the officers as she motioned to the boy. "Normally, we wouldn't call out four police officers to apprehend a ten-year-old, but he's a slippery one and a repeat offender to boot."

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." whispered the boy on the sidewalk as he pulled up his legs to his chin and sobbed into them. "I just want to be a trainer, but my mother won't let me, and my father's dead so he can't do anything about it, and I'm so sorry I stole your Pokémon and Pokéballs, daddy, but I – "

With sorrowful eyes, the Professor made his way through the two officers standing in front of him and knelt down to the little boy's level.

He turned to the four women surrounding the boy and gave them a small, sad smile.

"If you don't mind, officers, I think I'd like to take over the situation from here. You can go."

---

**"Xanax and Wine" (U2)**

"... and this Ash pretending to battle with Gary in the backyard. This was... oh, probably five years ago now. They were so adorable together!"

Professor Oak nodded and laughed as she handed him the photograph.

"They were a handful, those two. Still are, actually. I don't know how you managed to do it alone."

Delia looked down with a small smile. "Well, I wasn't exactly alone. You always made sure we had enough money to have a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, clothes on our backs... and once Gary decided that he wanted to live with you at the lab, well, it was just Ash and I, so it was no trouble at all."

Delia lifted her head and met his gaze. "He loved you so much, Samuel. They both adored you, but Gary took such a shine to you – it was no surprise that he went with you once he figured out who you were."

Oak smiled. "Yes, I remember that day. He was always precocious, but to figure something like that out at only three years old – and then to agree to keep it a secret by calling me his grandfather? I was shocked."

Delia nodded. "I don't know why we bothered to keep it a secret from Ash. I know I didn't want you to labeled with a scandal, but we at least should have told Ash that you're his father."

Oak placed the picture on the table and stared at his open palms. "I was never around, Delia. I put my work ahead of my family, and I'm always going to regret that. I would prefer that Ash think that his father is a great trainer out to become a Pokémon Master rather than a deadbeat dad who couldn't come down the road from the lab once in a while to visit his family."

"But you were around! I remember how you used to come by every weekend and play with the boys outside and – "

The Professor sighed. "And then I stopped once Gary came to live with me. It's no wonder Ash doesn't remember me... I left before his mind was able to clearly remember anything at all, including his father."

The two sat in silence for a few moments before Delia stood up from her seat and asked, "I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier, but would you like anything to drink, Samuel? I've got water, soda pop, lemonade..."

Oak nodded. "Thank you. Lemonade would be wonderful."

Delia gave him another small smile and headed into the kitchen. The Professor reached for the picture on the table and stared at the two boys shouting commands at the stuffed Pokémon that sat motionless on the ground near their feet. His hands shook slightly as he felt the corners of his eyes grow moist with tear droplets, and he moved to wipe them away with one of the sleeves on his lab coat. In the process, however, he dropped the photograph on the ground and felt it flit between his brown loafers and underneath the sofa.

He bent down to pick up the picture when he noticed the corner of the plastic bag lying on top of it. He grabbed the picture and the bag and placed them both on the coffee table just as Delia walked into the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her drop the tray of drinks she was carrying.

"Delia, what's this?" asked the Professor as he lifted up a large plastic bag filled with orange prescription bottles from the coffee table. The woman stood there for a few moments, unable to speak, before she mumbled into the hand covering her mouth, "Oh, God. Oh, my God."

The Professor asked again, this time more firmly. "Delia, what is this?"

She sighed and said in hardly a whisper, "It's – it's Xanax, Samuel."

"But you don't – "

He was cut off by a loud sob. The Professor watched as Delia collapsed into a heap on the floor, drawing herself into the fetal position. It was all the answer he needed, but she began to speak.

"After the boys left," she whispered, "I – I didn't know what to do with myself. There was nothing to do around the house, and I didn't think there was anything in life that could really hold my attention and passion as well as being a mother did."

She took in a shuddering breath and went on. "I thought about going back to the lab to continue my studies with you, but I knew you had enough on your plate already without me adding to your burdens. So I... anyone can be an addict, Samuel – it just holds fast to your spirit and doesn't let go until you've wasted away to nothing. I tried to stop for you and Ash and Gary's sakes, but I... I..."

He continued to stare at her as she sat up and ran her slender fingers through her auburn hair, then moved over to put an arm around her shoulders.

"Delia?" he asked softly. When she didn't look at him, he said gently, "Delia, please look at me."

Delia lifted her head slowly and met his gaze. Her eyes were swollen and blood-shot, and her face was wet with fresh, salty tears. She sniffled and said quietly, "You hate me, Samuel. There's no way that you could love me when I despise myself so much for what I've done."

He pulled her into a warm embrace and ran his fingers through her hair. "Delia, there is nothing you could do that would make you love you any less, and there's no way you could ever be a burden on me. You need to know that."

His voice cracked as he continued. "We're going to find someone to help you, okay? We're going to find someone who's going to help you – help _us_ – get through this. If nothing else, I promise you that."

The Professor pecked her on the lips and pushed thin lock of hair out of her eyes, then held her close to his chest and rubbed comforting circles around her back. He stayed with her that way for the rest of the night, even after she quieted and fell into a deep sleep.

---

**"Poison" (Bel Biv DeVoe)**

Her body was slick and curvaceous, and her eyes seemed to bore through him as she stared at him from across the room. She didn't understand how any man could be so uninterested in a specimen like her – she was the ultimate package: strong, beautiful, not to mention the perfect shade of lavender. He _must_ be gay, she figured, but she would soon change that!

Muk dived across the room towards Professor Oak, toppling over a number of items in the process. She heard the Professor scream as he ran towards the nearest exit, but the old man just wasn't fast enough and was soon enveloped in the Pokémon's loving embrace.

---

**"Drowning Man" (U2)**

The wind whipped across the shore and blew his gray hair into his face. He shoved it back with both of his hands, and then continued to hold his forehead in a desperate attempt to relieve a minor headache that had begun to plague him. Salty sweat and tears ran down his face and dripped off the end of his chin and jaw and onto his shirt, which was already drenched by the torrential downpour that had only started a few minutes ago.

He knew they thought he was crazy when he had run into the sea to join his grandson in his watery grave, but he knew wasn't crazy. He was just sick, that's all – an old man sick who was sick with grief, who cursed whatever forces caused his grandson to die before him. He had told Gary not to sail back to Sayda Island until the weather had cleared, but Gary had told him that the terrible weather wasn't supposed to clear up for weeks and that Professor Elm needed him to run an errand for him right away.

Out of the corner of his eye, Professor Oak saw Professor Elm talking to the funeral director. Almost as if he were in a trance, he approached his former student, taking long, silent strides like a predator stalking its prey. He stopped a few feet away from the man and waited until Elm finished his conversation before he opened his mouth to speak.

But when it came time to speak, he found nothing to say. Professor Elm, feeling the elder's unwavering gaze upon him, coughed nervously and shuffled his feet. There he was, standing right next to the man who he had admired for so long, and the only reason he was seeing him there now was because he was mourning for the loss of his grandson. Elm pushed up his glasses, then turned to face the Professor and, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, began to speak softly to him.

"My condolences, Professor Oak. Your grandson was a great scientist... his untimely passing will surely have a great impact on the integrity of the scientific community."

When Oak didn't respond, Elm continued. "If there's anything you need from us, Professor, consider us at your beck and call. I've contacted the other members of the Symposium, and they've all agreed to help you with anything you might need during this time."

Again, Oak said nothing. The rational side of his mind told him to thank his former student for his kindness, but its pitiful cries were drowned out by the loud roaring his visceral impulses created as they fired rapidly through his primal synapses and cut through Elm's hollow, rehearsed words. Caught between civility and murderous rage, he just stared blankly at Elm, apparently in a stupor, then with sudden, silent torrent of rage and sadness that seemed to cut the very air around them, he gritted his teeth in a snarl and swiftly punched his grandson's unintentional killer in the face.

---

**"Animal" (Def Leppard)**

Bill awoke with a start as a large orange dragon crashed through the high window of his lighthouse, sending shards of glass down across the floor of the study. He had decided to stay up into the wee hours of the morning to finish a few key upgrades on the storage system, but after falling victim to his normal circadian rhythm, he had fallen asleep at the computer and would have probably stayed there all night if he hadn't received such unexpected company.

But Bill was completely awake now and stood examining the Pokémon that lay on the glass-covered floor of the room. It was a Charizard, and aside from a few scrapes across its muzzle, the Pokémon didn't appear to have sustained any serious injuries from the crash.

Bill was reaching down to survey the damage left by the cuts when all of a sudden the creature let out a horrendous roar and stood up. It jerked its head abruptly to the right and let out a small grunt as one of its fangs recessed back into its mouth. The young researcher backed away from the Pokémon and watched on in shock and awe as the dragon's face lost its prominent snout and gained a human form and the creature's orange tinted skin began to change into a tanner tone. Finally, after a few minutes had passed, the beast that had lay before him had become man, and the only thing Bill could manage to do was release a slight, indistinguishable sound from his own tightened throat.

The old man was curled up on the floor, hardly moving. Though frightened, it was hardly in Bill's nature to leave another to suffer. Very slowly, he approached the man and said in hardly a whisper, "Professor? Professor Oak?"

Professor Oak didn't respond. At this point, Bill was thoroughly frightened and confused. Still, he continued to move forward toward the unconscious man, finally reaching out his small, pale hand and touching it to his colleague's throat. The man breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the Professor's warm breath against his pale arm and the elder researcher's steady pulse against his slender fingers.

However, the calm didn't last as the pulse beneath his fingers suddenly quickened and the breathing he felt on his arm became more rapid. The Professor's skin had started to become extremely warm, and Bill pulled his hand away, rushing to think of something that he could do to help him.

He needn't have worried, though, as Professor Oak's eyes opened and he stood up on trembling legs. He gave Bill a slight smile and said, "Hello, Bill. It's good to see you again."

Still frightened, still confused, but never one to be rude, Bill quietly responded, "Hello, Professor Oak. It's good to see you, too."

Bill meant that quite literally, as he much preferred to see the Professor's friendly old face as opposed to that of a fire-breathing dragon. He felt himself calm down a bit more. Then, never one to let his manners fail him, said, "Please, Professor, take my chair. I'm sure you need it more than I do right now."

That wasn't necessarily true, because Bill himself felt like he was going to faint. Still, it did the young researcher's heart well as the Professor smiled at him again and shakily made his way over to the soft, squishy armchair that Bill had previously occupied and eased himself into it. For a moment, he started blankly at the wall on the opposite side of the room, and then returned his gaze to Bill. He observed the man for a moment, as if he were expecting the other to do something.

Whatever the Professor was expecting Bill to do, though, apparently didn't happen, and the older man murmured in a gruff voice, "I'm sorry for any inconvenience I may have caused you, Bill. I didn't expect tonight to be so foggy... it was a bit hard to see where I was going as I flew, even with the lighthouse to guide me."

This was the first time the Professor had given any indication that he was aware of the events that had just taken place a few minutes ago, and Bill, who had since stumbled over to the kitchen to make some tea, turned around to face the older man. As he did, the pot went off with a shrill cry, and while he poured the hot water into a couple of small, white teacups and placed them on saucers, he dreaded the eminent question his insatiable inquisitiveness would soon have him asking his colleague.

Carefully carrying the saucers and teacups, he found a wooden chair and took a seat opposite the Professor. Moving in a little closer, he handed his colleague one of the saucers and placed his own on a nearby table.

"Professor," he began, "why did you... rather, _how_ did you–?"

Bill's voice gradually failed him as he thought about how to best phrase such an awkward question. After a few minutes of sitting in uncomfortable silence, Bill finally said, "I didn't know you could do that."

The Professor let out a small chuckle and replied, "It's not something I normally like to bring up in regular conversation. I'm sure you can understand why..."

Bill nodded, and the two sat in strained silence for a few more moments before Bill decided he couldn't avoid his nagging curiosity any longer.

"Professor," he began, "if you don't mind me asking, how... how do you do it? It's amazing, to say the least."

Professor Oak sighed. "If I knew, Bill, I would tell you... but I suppose it's just one of those mysteries that we have yet to solve."

---

**"Orange Sky" (Alexi Murdoch)**

The autumn sunset graced the grounds of the laboratory, with its bright orange tinge casting a soft glow across the hilly fields of the ranch. Professor Oak sat on the grass near the small pond in the middle of the pitch, a slight fall breeze blowing his gray hair sideways as he lay on his back on the grass, staring up at the few clouds that were still moving across the darkening sky. Tracey sat cross-legged beside him, his sketchpad out and his pencil working its way furiously across the page in a burst of inspiration.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" asked the Professor.

Tracey, completely oblivious to his surroundings, replied, "What's beautiful, Professor Oak?"

The man let out a small laugh before turning to his young protégé.

"The sunset, Tracey. Look at the sunset."

The boy turned his eyes skyward and observed the pastel hues that graced the sky around the red-orange sphere in the middle and smiled.

"See?" the Professor said. "Mother Nature's really outdone herself tonight, hasn't she?"

"Yeah, she has."

The two sat in amicable silence for a few moments before Professor Oak sat up and sighed. Tracey, who had resumed drawing, turned to the elder and asked, "What's wrong, Professor?"

The Professor turned to face his assistant, who saw tears streaking their way down his idol's face. He gave the boy a small, sad smile and said, "I'm not afraid of death, Tracey. The only thing I'm worried about is who's going to take care of you all when I'm gone. Who's going to take care of Ash and Gary and Delia... and you?"

Tracey was completely taken aback and only managed to croak out, "What? Professor... what?"

The Professor moved closer towards Tracey and put his arm around his shoulders. "I'm dying, Tracey. The doctor said I've only got, at most, a few more weeks to live... and that was two weeks ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but I didn't want to burden you all with this news, what with Ash winning the League Championship and all."

There was a beat of pause before Tracey shot up and nearly knocked the older man over.

"You... why would you do that?" he asked, his voice growing thick and starting to crack with emotion. "I – I just don't – did you think it would be any easier if I came into your bedroom one morning and found your corpse lying on the bed?"

The Professor sniffled and rubbed his nose on his lab coat sleeve. "I didn't want to take away your happiness, Tracey. I wanted these last few weeks to be happy – for all of us."

With tears now visibly streaming down his face, Tracey knelt down and seized the Professor in a strong embrace. He didn't care if the elder wasn't used to this kind of affection from him, just continued to hold his hero in his arms as the last rays of the sun slid down below the horizon and the inky black of the night coated the sky. The Professor was slightly startled at first, but soon he was rubbing comforting circles around the boy's back and attempting to soothe him by humming a low, rich tune that he vaguely remembered using as a lullaby for Gary he was a baby.

"Oh, God..." choked Tracey. "Oh, God..."

Tracey continued sobbing into his idol's shoulder while the Professor continued to hold his assistant and hum his lullaby, a song that seemed to echo across the fields and up towards the heavens before slowly fading away into the dark of the night.


End file.
